


Bullet Holes

by lostresidentevilpotter



Series: What If? [7]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Read the warnings my friends, This one starts with a bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 19:03:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20662190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter
Summary: Ginny slaughters everyone at the oil fields, and Alicia seeks vengeance for her fallen friends. Alicia/Al.





	Bullet Holes

**Author's Note:**

> I have not yet watched 5x14, so the characterization of Ginny could be way off and the characters I created for the pioneers could be unnecessary, but anything written after this will correct that. This starts with everyone at the oil fields at the end of 5x13 dying, so be warned. Also, since this is yet another story I'm posting in the middle of the night, there may be errors.

The first bullet brings down Logan, just like Ginny intends it to. She smiles to herself atop her horse, adjusts her hat, and watches her pioneers mow down the rest of the inhabitants of the oil fields. Her oil fields. They all fall, one by one. Then the oil is hers for the taking.

Before the pioneers wipe everyone out, one of them manages to kill Quincy, blasting him right off his horse. But if Ginny had to pick someone to lose, Quincy is high on the list.

“Nice job,” Ginny announces once the gunfire has ceased and everyone in the field is dead. “Let’s move in.”

*

Logan’s brains splatter across the dirt. His crew are dispatched just as quickly, and in a matter of seconds, they all lay dead. Luci panics, turns her eyes upward at the people on horses, brandishing guns. John and June, Sarah and Wendell, the kids all take up arms. John manages to shoot one guy right off his horse, but they have the element of surprise and quick shooters, and before long, everyone drops.

Luci’s hit, just like everyone else, and she knows it’s bad. The bullet’s somewhere in her chest, and she barely manages to get her walkie off her belt and bring it up to her mouth in her bloodstained hand. The horses are leaving, surely making their way down, and Luci’s running out of time. She holds the button on the walkie down, breathing heavily for a moment.

“Alicia,” she hisses. “We’ve been attacked at the fields by people on horses. I think almost everyone is dead. Don’t come here.”

The walkie falls from Luci’s hand before Alicia can respond. Someone dismounts a horse, and gravel crunches beneath the person’s boots. Luci lifts her eyes to a woman with red hair, face shielded by a cowboy hat. Almost like John’s hat. Luci can feel herself losing blood fast, and she feels like she can barely breathe. The woman stares down at her, a faint smile on her face, thumbs hooked through her belt loops.

“So sorry about that, little lady,” Redhead says cheerfully. “Y’all just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She turns her head back and shouts, “Benji! Teagan! Come make sure no one gets back up, will ya?”

“We hit most of them in the head,” a man – Benji? – complains.

“Do it anyway,” Redhead replies. She waves them over. “Starting with this one here.”

“Luci? Luci, do you copy?” Alicia says frantically. Luci tries to reach for the walkie, but her arm has stopped responding to her brain’s commands. Redhead crouches down, gazing curiously at Luci as she scoops the walkie up.

“May I ask who I’m speaking to?” Redhead says into the walkie.

There’s a long pause before Alicia answers, “If you’ve done something to my friends, I will personally kill you and everyone you love.”

Redhead laughs to herself as Benji and Teagan join her, each carrying at least three guns, as far as Luci can see.

“I’d like to see you try,” Redhead replies, smirking. She passes the walkie to Teagan and says, “Keep this on you. Say nothing else. I want to know everything these people do.”

“Understood,” Teagan says.

“Get started,” Redhead orders. “I want these bodies cleared out before sundown.”

*

“Alicia –”

Alicia knots her hands in Al’s hair at the back of her head, pulls her back in, reconnects their lips. Al, though, hums and pushes Alicia back again.

“We don’t have time,” Al breathes.

“We have time,” Alicia dismisses. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

Al caves, but she spares a glance toward the back of the van anyway. Strand’s out painting a tree with Charlie, and Morgan’s doing fuck knows what. That’s what scares Al the most.

Alicia pulls back on her own this time and grasps onto Al’s shoulders. “You are thinking too much,” Alicia says. “No one’s coming back for a while, and all the doors are locked. We have time.”

Al shakes her head. Something doesn’t feel right. She doesn’t know how to express this to Alicia without sounding paranoid. Alicia sheds her jacket – a new one, a light color, leather – and drops it to the floor of the van with Al’s jacket. Alicia moves quickly; she always seems to be in such a rush. Al can’t blame her. They barely ever get any time to themselves thanks to the caravan. Someone always needs something.

Even now, as Alicia’s hands tug at the bottom of Al’s shirt – a red one, handpicked by Alicia on her last run – the walkie crackles to life. Al sighs in frustration as Alicia groans and smacks her hand against the side of the van.

“Seriously?” Alicia whines. “What can they want now?”

Just as Alicia picks the walkie up, Luci speaks. “Alicia. We’ve been attacked at the fields by people on horses. I think almost everyone is dead. Don’t come here.”

Alicia’s eyes lock with Al’s, and for a moment, she can’t form words. There are too many questions to ask.

_What happened?_

_Are you okay?_

_Who’s injured?_

_Who’s dead?_

_Who are the people on horses?_

_What do they want?_

Alicia can guess at the answers to a few of the questions. “Luci, what’s going on?” Alicia asks. She gets silence in response. “Luci?” she says. She looks to Al, but Al just pushes her hands into her hair and stares at the floor. “Luci? Luci, do you copy?” Alicia nearly shouts into the walkie. Each second that passes in silence is agonizing, but finally, _finally_, the walkie crackles to life.

But it isn’t Luci that answers. It’s some woman – a voice Alicia doesn’t recognize. “May I ask who I’m speaking to?” the woman says, sounding oddly cheery and pleasant. Alicia balks, and Al drops her hands from her hair and peers up at Alicia inquisitively.

“Who the fuck is that?” Al asks.

Alicia falters. “I don’t know,” she admits.

“I guess it’s whoever attacked the fields.”

Alicia nods curtly, gripping onto the walkie so tightly her knuckles turn white. She presses the button down and growls, “If you’ve done something to my friends, I will personally kill you and everyone you love.”

“Alicia,” Al warns. Alicia waves her off. Who knows what this bitch has done? Who knows who’s alive? Luci told her not to come, but what else is Alicia going to do? Sit here and wait?

“I’d like to see you try,” the woman on the other end says. Alicia grits her teeth and resists the urge to throw the walkie against the wall.

“Get up,” Alicia says. “We have to get the others and get to the fields.”

“Did you hear Luci?” Al says. “She said –”

“I know what she said!” Alicia snaps. “You think we’re going to just leave them there? What if they’re still alive?”

Al presses her lips together. “I didn’t say we should leave them,” she says quietly. “But we don’t know what we’re dealing with, Leesh. We don’t know _who _we’re dealing with.”

“Then let’s fix that.”

*

The bodies burn as Ginny helps herself to their belongings. The first thing she takes is the cowboy hat right off the head of one of the bodies. She’s lucky she got to it before her people did. There’s no blood on it.

“You missed one,” Ginny calls to Benji, just to tick him off. It’s true, though. He missed one. She swaps her hat for the cowboy’s and smiles to herself. Benji approaches, aims his gun at the cowboy’s head, and puts a bullet through it.

“There,” Benji grumbles. “I got it.”

“Thank you.”

Ginny crouches and wiggles a customized revolver out of the cowboy’s holster. She inspects it in the sunlight, runs her finger along the barrel. The grip has _JD _engraved on it. Ginny doesn’t know what it means – she assumes it’s of some significance to the man that owned it. Initials, either his or someone who was important to him, maybe. Or maybe it stands for something unrelated.

It doesn’t bother her that she doesn’t know and won’t ever know. She doesn’t really care. She stands and jams the revolver into her waistband.

“Benji,” Ginny says. “Burn it.”

He complies without whining this time, thankfully. He takes the body by the arm and drags it to the pit with the rest. Ginny looks around the oil fields, satisfied to see nearly all the bodies cleared out. And there’s still a couple hours of daylight left.

Overall, it’s a good day.

*

“What do we do?” Strand asks. Charlie lingers behind him, watching as Alicia climbs up into the driver’s seat, forcing Al to sit shotgun in her own van.

“What do you think?” Alicia replies. The van roars to life. “We go to the oil fields. We get our friends. We kill anyone else.”

“What about Morgan?” Charlie asks.

“He’s not answering his walkie,” Al says. “He might be out of range.”

“What if we don’t find anyone?” Charlie blurts. “What if we show up and the fields are empty?”

“Then we keep looking,” Alicia snarls. “We’ll find them.”

“Alicia,” Al says gently. “Luci said –”

“We don’t know that it’s true!” Alicia blurts. “They might’ve captured them.”

Strand and Al exchange a doubtful look as Alicia speeds off. The oil fields are almost twenty miles away, barely within the walkie’s range. As Alicia drives, Al, Strand, and Charlie make sure they’re armed. They load the guns – both their own and the van’s. Strand unearths Al’s cache of grenades and various other explosive devices.

“We’re going in hot,” Strand comments.

“Not if they have our friends,” Alicia counters. Her message is clear: if their friends aren’t there, they _will _use force.

So much for helping people.

*

The sun is just beginning to set when Ginny hears it. The unmistakable sound of an engine. A loud one at that. That engine belongs to something big.

“Hey! We’ve got incoming,” Ginny shouts. She mounts her horse, Chester, and adjusts her new hat. “Get in formation,” she adds, though it’s not really necessary. The pioneers know what to do. They’ve been doing this for a while now.

The engine belongs to an MRAP, and the vehicle rolls up the tunnel, screeching to a stop maybe a yard ahead of the pioneers’ line. The MRAP stops with the driver’s side facing the pioneers, and the window rolls down halfway.

“Where are our friends?” a woman – the same woman from the walkie, Ginny thinks gleefully – demands.

“They aren’t here,” Ginny answers. “Come outside. We’ll talk.”

A hatch on the MRAP lifts, revealing two massive machine guns. Ginny’s eyebrows raise. She’s rather impressed, actually.

“Our friends,” the woman says pointedly.

Ginny calculates her odds of surviving a confrontation with the MRAP and the people inside it. Currently, the odds are not in her favor. But if she can get this woman to step outside –

Maybe Ginny needs to extend the olive branch first. She removes the hat from her head, hooks it on Chester, and dismounts. She untucks her shirt, pulls it over the revolver she scavenged off that cowboy, and runs her fingers through her hair. She walks slowly toward the MRAP, hands held out at her sides nonthreateningly.

“Ma’am,” Benji calls. Ginny gives a flick of her wrist, dismissing his concerns. If these people are willing to gun her down before they get answers about their friends, then so be it. She’ll deserve her death for being such an idiot. But Ginny has a feeling that these people are desperate. And desperate people make bad decisions.

Ginny steps up beside the driver’s side door, stares up at the woman behind the glass. Except she can hardly be called a woman. She looks like she isn’t old enough to be driving a vehicle like this, except her eyes betray the toll this world has taken on her. Despite her youthful appearance, she’s a clever one.

“Maybe we can make a deal,” Ginny offers.

“No deals,” the woman says. “Our friends.”

Ginny squints at her, hooks her thumbs through her belt loops. “Why don’t you step on down?” Ginny says gently. “We can talk. I’ll tell you all about your friends.”

There are more people in the MRAP. They’ve been quiet so far, but Ginny can see another woman in the passenger’s seat. This woman’s eyes haven’t left the driver once. There are more people in the back, rustling around, but Ginny can’t tell how many.

The driver seems to be contemplating doing as Ginny asked. She hesitates, reaching for the door, until the other woman grabs her arm.

“Alicia,” the woman in the passenger’s seat warns. “Don’t.”

“Keep your hand on the lever,” Alicia replies. “Pull it if I tell you to.”

The lever, Ginny deduces, controls the machine guns mounted on the MRAP. Guns that could wipe out her entire group in seconds. They wouldn’t even be able to defend themselves. Something to keep in mind.

Ginny takes a few steps back, giving Alicia room to step out of the MRAP. She, like any good survivor, is armed to the teeth. Knives, guns, makeshift weapons are strapped all over Alicia’s body. Ginny’s willing to bet she has even more concealed on her.

Up close, Ginny reassesses her evaluation of Alicia’s age. Up close, she looks so much older. Worn out. She’s still alive for a reason. Ginny tries to keep that in mind.

“You’re Alicia,” Ginny says.

Alicia’s body stiffens. They’re about even in height, Ginny notes. Hand to hand, Ginny would beat her, no question about it.

“Who are you?” Alicia finally asks.

“Name’s Virginia,” Ginny answers. “You can call me Ginny.”

Alicia nods. “And where are our friends?”

Ginny smiles. “You don’t even want to know who we are? Why we’re here?”

“I want to know where my friends are.”

Ginny nods understandingly. “You must understand, Alicia, that you’re all on my turf.”

“That’s funny,” Alicia deadpans, “because I don’t remember ever seeing you around before.”

“You’re seeing me now.”

“Give us our friends,” Alicia says evenly. “Take the fields. I don’t fucking care. I just want my friends back.”

Ginny hums, tapping her fingers against her thighs. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“I’m not against working together, you know,” Ginny says. “Sharing the fields. You can keep helping people, but together, we can do more than just save individual lives. We can make a real difference –”

“Save the speech,” Alicia cuts in. “Give me my friends, or I’ll tell my girlfriend to open fire on yours.”

A smile flickers on Ginny’s face. Alicia is strangely emotionless, at least on the surface. Her eyes are a different story.

“That’s quite a threat,” Ginny says. “It’s interesting how you assumed these people are my friends.”

Alicia falters, just for a moment, but it’s long enough for Ginny to notice. Ginny’s smile widens.

Alicia catches her off guard, grabbing a fistful of her shirt and pressing the blade of a knife to her throat hard enough to draw a sliver of blood.

“Where are they?” Alicia hisses directly into Ginny’s ear. “Cut the _shit_, or I’ll cut your jugular.”

Ginny would laugh if she doubted the sincerity of the threat. She hears the pioneers cocking their guns. Benji yells for Alicia to release her, but once again, Ginny gives a flick of her wrist and waves off his concerns.

“You’re making everyone a little antsy,” Ginny says quietly. “Put the knife down. We can talk this out.”

Alicia backs off, just a little, enough to catch a glimpse of the gun shoved into Ginny’s waistband. Alicia’s eyebrows pull together as her eyes lock onto the grip of the revolver, onto the little _JD _engraved in it. Alicia meets Ginny’s eyes, gritting her teeth.

She knows.

*

_JD_

John Dorie.

There’s only one reason his gun is at this woman’s side.

Alicia plunges the knife into Ginny’s neck, watches the shock cross her face, feels the blood pour over her fingers.

“_NOW!_” Alicia screams. She throws Ginny to the ground, knife still protruding from her neck, at the same time that Alicia slams to the dirt, covering her head with her hands. Alicia army crawls as close to the van as she can get, but she’s safely out of range. Al has never let Alicia down, and this time is no different. The moment Alicia gives the word, the guns start firing, and all of Ginny’s people fall dead.

Just like Alicia’s friends.

All dead.

Luci

John

June

Sarah

Wendell

Annie Max Dylan

But _Luci_ –

Alicia only realizes she’s screaming when the guns stop firing. She screams until her voice goes hoarse, until arms lock around her body and pull her up, until she collapses against Al and sobs into her shirt.

“The knife,” Al says to Strand. “Get it.”

Strand nods. He plucks the knife out of Ginny’s neck, wipes the blood off the blade onto her shirt, and takes John Dorie’s revolver.

“There’s a pit,” Strand informs, “where they burned the bodies. They’re gone. They’re all gone.”

Al nods sharply and tightens her hold on Alicia. “We need to leave,” Al says. “Before they all get up.”

“Agreed,” Strand says. “Can you handle her?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll drive.”

*

Alicia attends the wedding in a floral, summery dress – perfect for this kind of outdoor wedding in a field of purple flowers. Everything is beautiful, especially the bride. Luci’s dress is elegant, her face is radiant, and her eyes never once leave Nick’s face through the whole ceremony. Alicia claps with the rest of the audience, dabs at her eyes, holds onto her mother’s hand with her left and Al’s with her right.

She can’t help but think she was robbed of the chance of ever seeing Al in a suit. But now, she’s treated to the sight of Al dressed formally. The suit is black, perfectly tailored. The shirt beneath the jacket is blood red.

Al grins, leans closer to Alicia and murmurs something about this being them one day – but she adds that she wants something even _more _unnecessarily extravagant. Madison beams and agrees enthusiastically, and Alicia rolls her eyes but knows she’ll give in when the time comes.

“When did you both get so grown up?” Madison says, shaking her head and wiping her eyes.

Alicia doesn’t have an answer.

*

Alicia screams herself awake, and she realizes she’s trapped. Something’s got her. Maybe in her dreams, Nick and Luci get married and live happily ever after, but in reality, Nick and Luci died – just two more people Alicia couldn’t save.

They both die from a bullet in the chest, but Alicia doesn’t – and never will – know this.

Her mind tells her it’s a walker that’s got her, and Alicia struggles to get away, fists swinging as she yells for someone to help her –

Her fist connects with something hard, and the walker cries out.

But walkers don’t feel pain.

Alicia hits the floor in confusion, listening to someone shout in pain, and the lights in the van come on. Strand rushes into the back as Charlie stirs on the seats across from Al. Strand pulls Alicia to her feet. He’s still half asleep and even more confused than Alicia is, but he manages to ask, “What the hell is going on?”

“I was – I didn’t – I had to – I don’t know,” Alicia stammers. Her eyes go from Strand to Al, and Alicia realizes that, of course, it was Al that had been holding onto her. They’ve slept in each other’s arms for the past six months, at least, nearly every night. Al stares in disbelief up at Alicia; she’s probably the most confused of them all. Blood rolls down Al’s chin, dripping onto her shirt and staining her teeth red.

“You punched her?” Strand questions.

“I didn’t – Al, I’m so sorry,” Alicia whispers.

Al nods, looking warily from Alicia to Strand. Strand and Al exchange a look that Alicia can’t decipher, but suddenly, Strand is guiding Alicia to the front of the van.

“Take a seat,” he says. “I’ll help Al.”

Alicia doesn’t fall asleep until the sun rises.

*

They dance, slowly. Alicia’s left hand lays in Al’s right, and Alicia’s other hand rests against Al’s chest, against the blood red shirt. Al’s hand is at her waist, a comforting weight, and Alicia’s eyes don’t leave Al’s once. Alicia’s vaguely aware of the other couples around them, including her mom and Travis, Strand and Thomas Abigail, John and June. Nick and Luci must’ve snuck off together, maybe to lie in the bed of flowers and have a minute alone.

Something isn’t right. But when Al’s eyebrows pull together and that look of concern passes her face and she asks _are you okay? _Alicia smiles.

“Of course,” Alicia answers. “I’m with you.”

Al smiles back, but her lip splits, and blood flows down her chin, drips onto the shirt, somehow the exact same color. Alicia startles, takes a step back, but hands grasp at her, rip at her dress, her flesh. The wedding guests growl, and Alicia screams.

*

Al’s lip heals, but she makes a point of sleeping alone from now on, and Alicia can’t even bring herself to blame her.

They find Morgan, but when Charlie lets it slip that Alicia killed the woman responsible for the deaths of their friends, he takes off in search of Grace.

Strand starts searching for alcohol again.

*

Al still holds her, sometimes. Always during the day. Alicia presses her face against Al’s neck, pushes her fingers through Al’s hair, and breathes. Sometimes, she presses her ear to Al’s chest, listens to the strong thumping of Al’s heart, and tells herself she’s still got a reason to be alive.

*

Every night after most of her friends die in the oil fields, Alicia closes her eyes and sees a life she could never have, and she screams herself back into reality.

**Author's Note:**

> Not a happy one lol, but it served as a mini break from my ongoing WIP. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!


End file.
